


Toss A Bard To Your Witcher

by Jeldenil



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Don't copy to other sites, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeldenil/pseuds/Jeldenil
Summary: It's early. Jaskier is naked. Geralt gives in.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 310





	Toss A Bard To Your Witcher

It was early. Soft light filtered into the room through the gossamer drapes on the window. The room was quiet apart from the soft rustle of sheets when Jaskier left the bed and went to gaze outside, slowly taking off his long night shirt. The bard loved the early hours, when the world was still asleep and he had it to himself to do with as he wished.

Geralt half-woke up from the sudden absence in their bed. He muttered some vague protest, turned over and opened his eyes. He froze, staring at the shapely form of his bard standing in front of the window. The soft light caressed Jaskier's curves, leaving shadows just under his round buttocks. Dark patches of shade played a game of chase with sunbeams across Jaskier's back. He looked ethereal. And delectable.

Geralt's cock stirred, immediately and acutely at attention. Too early in the day to have built up his usual resistance to the bard's charms, impulse told him what to do, his sleep-riddled mind unable to object.

"Come back to bed," he said, his voice rough from sleep.

Jaskier spun on his heels, his mouth a surprised O.

"I.. I was going to take a bath," he stammered, blushing under Geralt's intense stare.

"Come back to bed," the Witcher repeated. "Fuck."

Jaskier did. He made his way over so quickly, he tripped over his feet and stumbled, falling against the mattress.

Geralt drew him towards his scarred chest, the evidence of his interest poking against Jaskier's thigh. He groped the bard's soft arsecheeks, relishing the feel of them in his palms. 

"This is new," Jaskier said, swallowing hard. Geralt could see the bard's Adam's apple bob with the weight of it. 

"Hmmm," came Geralt's reply, his hips bucking against Jaskier's. "Tell me to stop."

"What? No! I mean… please, go on." 

“Heh,” Geralt grunted, one massive hand on Jaskier's hip, gripping him tight. Jaskier's cock was waking up too, now, and the bard moaned softly under Geralt's rough attention. He pushed back against Geralt, the slightly wet tip of his cock leaving a moist trail on Geralt's lower belly. Geralt hummed, now wriggling his hand between them to gently feel the shape of his bard's cock against his fingers. Jaskier gasped, rocking up in Geralt's palm.

The bard rolled them over, pushing one leg over Geralt's hips and aligning himself so their cocks brushed against one another. Settling in Geralt's embrace, Jaskier nuzzled the Witcher's neck, working himself up until their lips met and he was devouring Geralt like he had been saving up all of his kisses for exactly this, right now.

They licked into each other's mouths, all tongues and lips and teeth. Geralt couldn't tell which moans were his, and which were Jaskier's. Geralt didn't think he'd ever been given any better kisses.

"Fuck,” the WItcher said again, breathless and dazed by the sheer intensity of the sensations his bard was giving him. Jaskier was climbing him, his legs around Geralt's hips as to better reach the Witcher's mouth with his. His cock was pressed against Geralt's stomach, leaving another wet droplet just underneath his navel. 

Geralt groaned, wanting everything at once.

“Come here,” he said, and “yes,” and “closer.”

"What do you want?” Jaskier asked, huffing a breathy, incredulous laugh. He looked a little overwhelmed.

“You. Fuck.” 

“Then have me,” the bard answered, his hand cupping Geralt's face and his blue eyes earnest. 

“Fuck, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier kissed him again. Softer now, but with a conviction that still left the Witcher slightly dizzy. 

Geralt smiled shakily, rolling them over once more. Now Jaskier was lying on his back, the massive form of Geralt hovering over him. 

“You're so hairy,” the Witcher observed, amused.

“You like it?” It was more a question than one of the usual flirty statements Jaskier was known for. His charming ways had deserted him under Geralt's undivided focus.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, and nuzzled into the fur on Jaskier's chest. 

“I take that as a yes- ahh,” Jaskier moaned when Geralt licked his nipple, wetting it and sucking it between his lips. The bard arched his back and grabbed Geralt’s head, holding him close to his chest. His fingers tangled in Geralt's hair, twitching slightly. 

When Geralt looked up, he saw that Jaskier had screwed his eyes shut and was gasping in pleasure. He smiled, and licked another stripe over Jaskier's pert nipple before making his way down the bard's soft belly.

“Wh- where did you learn to do that?” Jaskier whispered, staring down at Geralt in awe. 

“Hmm. None of your business, bard,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier sighed and shut his eyes again, laying back on the pillow with a vague smile on his lips. He didn't ask further. 

Geralt was careful, feeling almost afraid to break this tender, fragile thing that was his bard. His tongue danced around Jaskier's balls, dipping teasingly into his cleft for a bare second, making him buck his hips and yelp softly. He tasted a little tangy, but clean. 

“Is that good?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier laughed breathlessly. 

“Of course it is,” he confirmed, and followed up with a, “Go on then, you said you wanted me.” He looked gorgeous, Geralt thought. His cheeks were flushed a deep red and his beautiful blue eyes oh so large and a little wet. The Witcher didn't want to think about what it meant. 

Geralt smirked, and pressed his mouth against that little stretch of wrinkly skin between Jaskier's balls and arsehole, the perineum.

“Fine.” 

Geralt set to work with renewed vigor now, licking Jaskier's cock, balls and arse in turn, making the bard squirm and moan and reach for Geralt's hair. Pressing him down and pulling him back, directing his tongue to there, and oh please there, and deeper, and higher. 

Geralt had to come up for air, and to find the little vial of oil in his bag, to slick his fingers and push them inside Jaskier's arse. Careful, so careful. He didn't want to hurt the man below him. He didn't want to consider it might already be too late. 

“Please,” Jaskier begged. “Geralt… don't hold back. Please.”  
He pressed himself down on Geralt's fingers, as if to demonstrate how much more he could handle. Geralt felt a renewed surge of need rush through his body, his cock twitching impatiently.

So finally, Geralt stopped being gentle. He grunted an endearment he didn't intend for the bard to be able to distinguish, propped Jaskier’s hips up a pillow, and spread his legs. He pushed in, slow but steady.

Jaskier sucked on his cheeks, his eyes now definitely watery and his body tense. But he took a few deep breaths and managed to relax, to let it happen. His fingers dug into Geralt's back, his legs encircling his waist. 

Geralt was panting with the effort of it, of remaining in control, of pushing past the tight rim of Jaskier's hole. He looked down at Jaskier's face, and nearly shied away from his bard's expression. He was so open, so vulnerable, so completely his. 

Geralt swallowed, and pulled away, then pressed back in. It was too much, perhaps, but he wanted it still. 

They were both sweaty now, their breath heavy and in sync. Geralt fucked him deep and slow, and the bed sighed and creaked under their rhythmic motion. They kissed sloppily, and Jaskier held Geralt close, burying his face in Geralt's neck, shuddering. 

“Fuck, Geralt,” he sighed, his body tightening around his Witcher. His arms and legs worked to keep him, to hold him, and Geralt chuckled, low and dark.

“Yes.”  
He rocked into him again, never speeding up, relishing the intensity of sinking into his bard again and again. Of watching him come apart second by second, looking dishevelled and open. And quiet. Jaskier was a quiet lover, who'd have thought. 

The bard came like that, on an inward stroke, firm but slow, his skin all shivery and full with goosebumps. A subtle but delicious moan fell from his lips.

Geralt paused, giving his bard time to recover. 

“You liked that?” 

Jaskier looked at him incredulously. 

“You have to ask?” 

Geralt grinned, smug.

“Go on, then,” Jaskier encouraged him. “Fuck me some more.” 

And Geralt did, not so slow anymore, but still firmly. Hard, even. Indulging himself in this desire, this need to make Jaskier his, to mark him as his own. It didn't take long before he came, too, trembling like he sometimes did when coming down from one of his elixirs.

Jaskier held him, held him in his arms, steadied him, their breath syncing once again.

“You liked that?” Jaskier asked in turn.

“You have to ask?” Geralt replied, and they grinned stupidly at each other.

When Geralt slipped out of Jaskier, their mess cooling on and in their bodies, the bard looked suddenly insecure, his eyes averted and lip trembling a bit. But he still held his Witcher in his arms. They would talk about it later, Geralt thought. For now, they were both basking in the morning light.

And their bath was waiting.


End file.
